


Echo

by Mixxy



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Aftermath of the Strex rebellion, Angst, Dark, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Kevin Whump, M/M, Mental Instability, Past Character Death, Unhinged!Carlos, Violence, replacement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixxy/pseuds/Mixxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Cecil," Carlos says, eyes still distant, fond smile on his face. "I love you so much."</p><p>And Kevin allows himself to be pulled into an embrace, the words <i>I'm not Cecil</i> sticking his throat, partially because the last time he'd said them Carlos had gotten angry, and partially because....</p><p>Well...</p><p>He's not sure <i>who</i> he is anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echo

The man isn’t smiling. Kevin thinks he should be smiling. Everyone should smile! But this man isn’t. There’s a scowl instead on his perfect face, the one that looks so much like his Antonio's but isn’t. This man could be his brother. “Excuse me, friend,” Kevin says, breaking the long silence, “but do-”

“Shut up.” The man raises the gun so that it’s at Kevin’s eye level. He can see the darkness inside the barrel.

Kevin falls back into quiet. They’ve been sitting on this couch for awhile now, Kevin thinks, him perched on the edge and the man sitting heavily in the corner, gun resting in his knee, always pointed at Kevin. He’s not quite sure how long they’ve been here exactly, as he can’t remember when or how they got there in the first place. He can’t remember a lot of things, but the past few hours are especially a blur. Probably thanks to the wonderful pills StrexCorp provides him with.

The man’s white labcoat is splattered with blood and gore and it’s really lovely. Kevin wants to compliment him but the man _had_ asked him not to speak, and Kevin is nothing if not polite. He’s got blood on his own hands, and he absentmindedly licks his index finger, savoring the taste of iron. This house is remarkably dry, spotless except for the blood on the two of them. “I should kill you,” the man who looks like Antonio says, and Kevin’s eyes dart back over to him. He doesn’t say it with anger, or sadness, or anything. He says it like it’s just a fact, like _the station is located on the edge of town_ or _we are watched over by a smiling god_.

“I should kill you,” the man repeats, standing and walking to where Kevin sits. He raises the gun, presses the cold edge to the middle of his forehead. Kevin feels his palms start to sweat and he tries to pull back, but the man follows until he’s pinned between the back of the couch and the barrel of the gun now beginning to make his skin hurt. It might be cutting him. Kevin’s not sure. There’s nothing at all behind the man’s eyes, and that frightens Kevin. He may look like Antonio, but Antonio’s eyes are so expressive. This man’s eyes are dead. He doesn’t like this man.

They stay like this for a moment, the man’s finger twitching on the trigger, and Kevin trying to control his breathing. Then the man looks down and seems to notice the blood for the first time. “Jesus. Oh, God…” He squeezes his eyes shut, body shaking. He’s not crying, but he looks like he might be sick.

When he comes back to himself, he seems to have made a decision. “Come on.” He lifts the gun away and Kevin barely has time to sigh with relief before he’s being yanked up off the couch and pushed down the hall. He can still feel the press of the weapon against his back. They enter a bathroom and the man lets him go. “Go on, then.” He gestures to Kevin with the gun, movement erratic and jerky. “You’re getting blood everywhere. Shower.”

Kevin parts his lips in confusion, because this man’s house is far too dry, and isn’t the blood _helping_ that? But maybe that’s just how he likes it, and unnatural as it is, Kevin isn’t going to disrespect someone in their own home. He complies, unbuttons his vest and slips that off and his shoes. But as he goes to take off his shirt, he can still feel the man’s eyes burning into him. “Are you going to leave, or…?”

The man’s mouth presses into a thin line. “I’m not about to leave you alone.”

The gun is still pointed at him, so even though Kevin is still uneasy about stripping in front of him, he does so, and gets into the shower as quickly as he can. He turns up the heat of the water until it’s burning, and hums at the pleasant sting. He doesn’t really want to, but he makes sure every bit of the blood and dirt from whatever he did earlier that he can’t remember is washed off. The man is not there when Kevin steps out of the shower, but a towel has been placed nearby and Kevin dries himself off with it. His clothes are gone and in their place is a new set. They fit him, but they aren’t his.

He hesitantly wanders out of the bathroom. In another room he finds his clothes wadded up with the bloodstained lab coat. He knows he’s probably not supposed to touch them, but he still reaches into the pocket of his old pants and transfers his emergency supply of pills into the new one. He doesn’t know when he’s going home again, and he thinks it might be best to keep the pills nearby.

He finds the man in the kitchen, staring blankly off into space. When Kevin clears his throat, the man seems to snap back into reality. He looks over and sees Kevin and stares, with such an intensity that Kevin is scared all over again, for reasons he doesn’t understand. The man walks up to Kevin and with shaking hands and an extreme amount of care, he fixes his collar. “That’s better,” he says quietly, softly, to himself.

Kevin tentatively places a hand on the man’s arm. “Sorry, but I don’t quite remember. Do I know you?”

The care suddenly vanishes, like Kevin’s voice broke a spell, and the hands on his collar tighten. “Carlos,” the man says, the man who looks so much like Antonio but is not.

“Carlos,” Kevin repeats and that, that stirs something in Carlos, something that Kevin can see but can’t identify. “Carlos, where am I? Not that this isn’t lovely here, but they’ll be expecting me at home. People will worry if I’m not back.”

The hands slide up to his neck and circle it, putting a bit of pressure on Kevin’s windpipe, and it makes him nervous. “I should kill you,” Carlos says for the third time that day, and he squeezes, just a little. Not enough to restrict Kevin’s breathing, but enough that he can feel it. Kevin isn’t sure how long Carlos stands there, searching Kevin’s face, but then he drops his hands and walks out of the kitchen.

It’s quiet, and Kevin’s mind is already beginning to fog the previous memories of the gun as he looks at his bloodless hands and wonders when Antonio will come and get him.

* * *

Kevin sleeps on the couch and when he wakes up there’s a blanket over him. That’s very considerate, he thinks. The previous day feels a little distant, but he gets the feeling Carlos didn’t like him right away. Maybe he’s warming up to him!

He follows the smell of coffee to the kitchen, where Carlos has been gracious enough to make breakfast. The other man looks like he didn’t sleep at all, and he barely looks at Kevin when he enters, though he pushes a mug toward him.

Kevin picks up the cup and takes a sip, trying not to grimace at the bitter taste. He’s always taken his coffee sweet, very sweet. He reaches for the sugar and there’s a hand closing around his wrist, stopping him. Carlos shakes his head, still not looking up, and Kevin slowly pulls his arm back and drinks his black coffee. It’s not awful, once you get used to it.

Carlos doesn’t talk to him much at all over the course of the day. He doesn’t let Kevin get too far away from him, but he doesn’t bring out the gun again. Kevin tries to initiate conversation every now and again, but Carlos isn’t…it’s like he isn’t there. Like something important has broken inside him. It’s scary, but it’s also very sad.

He only brings up going home once, and the look Carlos shoots him is enough to make him stop talking. He’s not stupid- one doesn’t live to adulthood in desert Bluffs by being stupid- and he knows that looks brings nothing good with it.

Shortly afterwards he’s sitting in the living room, thinking about darling Antonio and why he hasn’t come for Kevin yet, and he hears a noise. Curious, and frankly, really bored, he investigates. He finds Carlos kneeling on the ground in a bedroom, back heaving with sobs he muffles against his hand, holding a watch.

It tugs at Kevin’s heartstrings. He doesn’t know what happened to make Carlos so sad, but nobody should be crying like that, like they’ve lost everything. He quietly approaches Carlos and drops down beside him, carefully wrapping his arms around the other man.

Carlos tenses at first, and Kevin is worried he’s done the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to make things worse, he wants to help! Everyone should smile! But then Carlos turns, pulls Kevin against him, and buries his face in the crook of his neck. Kevin is happy he was able to make Carlos feel better, even if he is holding him a little tight.

Carlos holds him close until he stops shaking, stops crying. One hand comes up and starts petting Kevin’s hair, and he's a little uncomfortable with this, but it feels nice. The sky outside goes from a dusky pink to the black of the void. It’s always so dark here, unlike Desert Bluffs.

Finally Carlos lets Kevin go, and looks at his face for a very long time. Kevin doesn’t say anything, not even when Carlos grabs his arm and pulls it out in front of him, pushing up his sleeve. He lifts the watch and fastens it tightly around Kevin’s wrist. The sight of it seems to calm him, and he runs his fingers over the leather of the strap.

* * *

Kevin sleeps on the couch again, and this time he just drinks his coffee as is. He’s rewarded with a small smile from Carlos, and it makes him giddy with happiness. He has no idea _why_ it’s so important he takes his coffee a certain way, but if it makes Carlos smile for once, it can’t be all bad, can it?

Despite the smile, Carlos seems tense. He chews on a fingernail, staring at Kevin from across the table. He looks away, then back, then frowns, then repeats the whole thing all over again. Kevin still has the watch on and Carlos focuses on that, eyes glued to his wrist.

About an hour after breakfast Carlos seeks him out, puts a hand on his lower back and leads him to the same bathroom he’d showered in the first day. Kevin wonders if Carlos is going to make him shower again, and really hopes that this time he’ll leave when he changes. But Carlos doesn’t do this. Instead, he turns Kevin around and picks up a bowl of paste that smells like chemicals, spreading it on Kevin’s dark auburn hair. Kevin doesn’t like it. It stings in his sinuses and burns where it touches his scalp. He makes a noise of protest when Carlos starts, but the other man doesn’t give any sign that he’s heard him.

The paste stays on for a long time, and then Carlos’ hand closes punishingly hard on the back of Kevin’s neck, pushing him down into the sink and dumping water on his hair. When he lets him up, finally, he’s gasping for air. Then a towel is draped unceremoniously over his head, being rubbed into his hair, drying him but doing nothing about the sharp chemical smell.

The towel is pulled away, and Carlos- he looks so much like Antonio, and Kevin is really beginning to miss him- sets it on the counter before gripping Kevin’s chin, tilting his head. Kevin catches sight of himself in the mirror and almost doesn’t recognize his reflection. His dark hair is now bleached stark white, and Carlos is running his hand through it almost reverently. “There we go. That’s…better. That’s much better, Cecil.”

Kevin blinks at him politely. “I’m not Cecil, my name is Kev-” He’s cut off when the hand in his hair tightens, yanking his head back and making him squawk with pain.

“Cecil,” Carlos hisses, a bit desperately, and Kevin thinks that maybe this time he shouldn’t argue.

Later Carlos puts on a movie and they watch it together. _Cat Ballou_. “You’ll like this,” Carlos says, mumbled, almost more to himself. “It’s your favorite.”

Kevin has never seen the movie before, but Carlos is more attentive now, more easygoing, and he can’t bring himself to point it out. It’s a nice enough movie. It could be his favorite, maybe. He dozes off- he hasn’t been getting the best sleep on the couch- and when he wakes up he’s curled up against Carlos. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t here when he fell asleep. He makes a movement like he’s going to pull away, and Carlos’ arms tighten around him in response. “Oh, Cecil,” he sighs against his temple. “I was so afraid I lost you.”

 _I’m not Cecil_ , Kevin thinks, but he’s tired and Carlos is warm and he slips back into sleep.

* * *

The days pass, until they all seem like one. Kevin wakes up, and Carlos usually has breakfast ready. He drinks his coffee (black, did he ever take it another way? He feels like he did, but he isn’t sure anymore) and sometimes chats with Carlos over the food. The rest of the day is usually spent waiting, for…someone…someone he loves… _Antonio!_ He can’t believe he almost forgot. He can’t believe how this has happened more than once.

He makes mistakes. Carlos corrects him. He’s so kind like that. When he says he loves the morning, Carlos reminds him that he’s a night owl. When he talks about not seeing raccoons around here, Carlos tells him that he’s a dog person, though with a fondness towards cats as well.

Carlos leaves one day and comes back with a package. “I got you something, Cecil.”

Kevin presses his lips together, because he’s not Cecil (right?) but Carlos keeps calling him that. He takes the package, and opens it to find colored contacts. Brown. “I don’t wear contacts.”

Carlos runs a hand along his shoulders, probably to calm him. “It’s alright, Cecil, we’ll do this together. We’ll get it right.”

The words make Kevin feel uneasy. “Get what right?”

“It’s not right, but we can make it right.” Carlos cups Kevin’s jaw with one hand, smiling at him so fondly.

There’s such affection in that look. And Carlos knows him so well. Maybe he’s right. Maybe his eyes have always been brown and now they’re blue and he just needs to…fix it. “I’ve never…put in contacts before,” he says, holding on to the box tightly.

“Don’t worry, Cecil, I’ll help you.”

Cecil, and for a moment everything snaps back into clarity. He’s not Cecil. He’s Kevin. He’s Kevin and his hair is dark and his eyes are blue and he loves Antonio, not Carlos. He makes a low whine in his throat and backs up, away from Carlos’ touch, still clutching the box of contacts. “I’m not Cecil. I’m Kevin. I’m not Cecil, I’m not I’m not I’m not _I’mnotI’mnotI’mnot_ -”

Carlos slaps him across the face. Hard. His mind, which was whizzing through thoughts so fast it was making him dizzy, suddenly screeches to a halt and he can’t do anything but press a hand to his cheek and gape at Carlos dumbly. His skin is warm under his hand.

“Listen, Cecil,” Carlos says, stepping closer and gathering the other man in his arms. “I love you _so much_. I almost lost you, and- and it was awful, alright? I just want to keep you safe. Let me take care of you. Because I love you, Cecil, more than anything else.”

He is loved. Carlos loves him. There was something…not right about that a minute ago, but whatever realization he’d had has been lost. “I…love…”

“What’s that?”

Kevin (Cecil?) presses close against Carlos, feels safe, or at least as safe as he’s felt since he got here. “Will you show me how to put in the contacts?”

“Of course, Cecil. Anything for you.”

Then he’s got white hair and brown eyes and he thinks this looks right. Maybe.

* * *

Two nights later Carlos watches him as he climbs onto the couch for another night of restless sleep, laced with dreams that aren’t quite nightmares that he can’t quite grasp. He’s getting used to Carlos watching him. Carlos says that he almost lost him, once, and though he doesn’t like to talk about it he hardly ever lets Kevin (Cecil?) out of his sight, like he’s afraid he’ll vanish if he leaves his line of vision.

“Cecil,” Carlos says, and Kevin (Cecil) looks up immediately. He isn’t sure when he started responding to Cecil, but he is now. “Why don’t you join me in the bed?”

Kevin (Cecil) hesitates. He’s been sleeping on the couch since…since he can remember (and there was something, someplace before this, but Carlos tells him he’s always lived here so maybe there wasn’t). He’s not sure about this, if Carlos expects something else than sleeping and if he can give that to him, because he remembers another man who looks like Carlos but isn’t Carlos, with eyes that shine like the sun. He thinks he loved this man, and Carlos says that he and Kevin (Cecil) love each other, but Kevin (Cecil) isn’t positive.

In the end he stands up and follows Carlos to the bedroom. Because Carlos loves him, doesn’t he, and the bed has to be nicer than the couch. On the bedside table, a picture is facedown. Kevin (Cecil) picks it up and looks at it. It’s Carlos with his arm around another man. This man has white hair and brown eyes. “Is this us?” He asks, trailing his fingers across the picture.

“Yes,” Carlos says, climbing into bed on the other side. “Last year at one of the municipally approved parades.”

It is him. Is it? It’s like a ghost of him. Or maybe he’s the ghost. He thinks he’s real. He’s not sure.

“Coming to bed?” Carlos asks, and Kevin (Cecil) puts down the picture and gets under the covers on his own side. It’s soft, and warm, and when Carlos reaches out and holds his hand it’s too much, and he’s crying. Things aren’t right inside him and he’s missing things he has no name for or memory of and he doesn’t know who he is anymore.

Then Carlos shifts closer, wipes the tears from his cheeks, and kisses him. Softly. A reassurance. And Kevin (Cecil) clings to that, clings to Carlos.

* * *

Kevin (Cecil) is running out of pills. He carefully measures out the ones he has left. He needs more. Someone ( _Antonio)_ used to give him more and then everything went back to being happy and safe.

He and Carlos have sex eventually. It just happens. One night they’re lying in bed and Carlos kisses him and it’s sweet and confusing and feels wrong but Kevin (Cecil) just wants it to feel right, so he kisses back and slips off his shirt when Carlos tugs at it. Carlos is so very gentle and affectionate. He presses kisses and soft bites to Kevin’s (Cecil’s) neck, making him moan. He grips Carlos’ hair and judging from the way Carlos grinds against him he likes that, so he does it again.

Carlos’ skin is rough with scars under Kevin’s (Cecil’s) hands, and they rub deliciously against his own. “Cecil,” Carlos breathes into his ear as his hands do absolutely wonderful things lower, “I love you, so much.” He licks along his collarbone, and Kevin (Cecil) arches up underneath him. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t ever want to let you go.” It almost worshipful, the way he makes his way down Kevin’s (Cecil’s) chest, his mouth leaving a burning hot trail behind. When he takes Kevin’s (Cecil’s) cock into his mouth, Kevin (Cecil) cries out, hands fisting in the sheets beside him until Carlos takes them and guides them to his hair.

Carlos works him open slowly and carefully, murmuring endearments the entire time. “I love you. Cecil, my Cecil. You’re so wonderful.” He keeps talking, but Kevin (Cecil) tunes him out after that in favor of fully embracing the feeling as Carlos pushes into him. It doesn’t hurt, not really, Carlos did a good job of getting him ready, but the intimacy of it all takes his breath away. It isn’t just fucking, not this- it’s love, it’s need, it’s the craving to have someone so close that there’s no difference between you. Kevin (Cecil) remembers feeling this way in the past, but he can’t put his finger on when (or with who). And as Carlos starts moving, he squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed. “Are you alright?” Carlos slows but does not stop, hand caressing Kevin’s (Cecil’s) cheek. “Is it hurting?”

Kevin (Cecil) shakes his head and hooks his legs around Carlos’ waist, a silent plea for more. Carlos gives it to him, unhurried but unrelenting rhythm in the rocking of his hips, filling Kevin (Cecil) and making him ache for release. He finds that sweet spot and Kevin (Cecil) cries out, eyes flying open, nails digging into the other man’s shoulder. He’s moving above Kevin (Cecil), deep brown eyes half-lidded, wavy hair mussed, dark skin glistening with sweat. Kevin (Cecil) whines and clutches at him harder, gasping out “Ah, Antonio!”

The change is immediate. Carlos’ (because he is Carlos, not _Antonio_ , and oh lord, the thought hurts) eyes widen, and when he looks at Kevin (Cecil), he wants to shrink back and away because those are not the eyes of someone who has a firm grip on reality.

“Don’t you say that. _Don’t you say that_.” He hisses, and his hands go up to Kevin’s (Cecil’s) throat, squeezing and this time Kevin (Cecil) really does have to struggle to breathe. “Antonio is dead. He’s _dead._ I shot him. Do you understand? I shot that _bastard_ right between the eyes. I shot him because he- he ki- he killed-”

Kevin (Cecil) can’t think, the words rattle around in his head, and his lungs are burning. _No_ , and he’s not sure if he managed to say it or just thought it. _Antonio. Mine. Carlos?_ Everything hurts and he can’t breathe and there’s no air oh god Kevin Cecil two names one him Antonio and Carlos but Carlos loves him Carlos is fixing him Carlos is helping him be Cecil no air no air no air

“ _Cecil_ ,” in his ear and then the hands let go and he’s gulping down oxygen, sobbing though he’s not sure why. Carlos kisses away his tears, pets his hair until he calms down.

Carlos loves him.

He could be Cecil.

“Carlos,” he says in a hoarse, shaky voice, hands reaching out for something, anything. Carlos meets them, laces their fingers together, kisses Cecil’s (Kevin’s?) knuckles. “M-My Carlos.”

There’s a soft sigh against his hand. “My Cecil. Do I still remind you of Antonio?”

Cecil (Kevin) mouths the name. It sounds familiar on his tongue, but when he tries to think about it his mind won’t let him go there. It’s like the idea is laced with spikes, and even getting too close hurts. “Who’s Antonio?”

Carlos smiles gratefully, and it’s wonderful, those straight white teeth. “Oh, Cecil.” He nuzzles against Cecil’s (Kevin’s) neck, and Cecil (Kevin) feels a rush of affection. Carlos loves him. Carlos loves him _so much_.

“I love you,” he says, and the words are bittersweet. Carlos inhales sharply and strokes the side of Cecil’s (Kevin’s) face. Cecil (Kevin) lets his eyes drift shut, feeling blissfully numb. “I love you.”

Carlos kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose, his cheek. “Oh, Cecil. I love you too.”

Eyes still closed, Cecil (Kevin) mouths mindlessly at Carlos’ shoulder. “Will you make love to me, Carlos?”

In response Carlos catches his mouth in a kiss and presses inside him again. It’s gentle and good and Cecil (Kevin) comes with Carlos’ name on his lips.

* * *

Filing his teeth down _hurts_.

But it needs to be done. Cecil (Kevin) has seen photos of himself and Carlos from before (before when? He doesn’t know) and he had flat teeth, not these sharp things currently in his mouth. He needs to be fixed. Carlos says he’ll help him. Carlos is so good like that.

It still hurts, no matter how much it’s necessary. Carlos ends up having to straddle his chest, forcing his mouth open as he files the points away. Cecil (Kevin) wants to cooperate, but the pain is unbearable and his instincts keep trying to clamp his mouth shut, to get away from the weight on top of him. But Carlos (perfect Carlos) is determined, and Cecil’s (Kevin’s) inconvenient reflexes don’t stop him. They can’t do anything about the screams.

Carlos is so sweet afterward. He gives Cecil (Kevin) painkillers, tells him the worst of it will eventually go away, that Cecil is so wonderful, so amazing. He holds him on the couch and puts on his favorite movie and presses a glass of water to his lips. The cold feels exquisite on his throat, raw from screaming.

When Cecil (Kevin) smiles in the mirror, he looks just like he used to in the photos.

* * *

He runs out of pills. He can’t remember why they were important. He can’t remember who gave them to him. But they’re gone now.

Two days later he goes into withdrawal.

Everything hurts. He spends a lot of the time curled up on the bed, breaking out in cold sweats, shivering violently. Oh, god. His head must be splitting open, with the amount of pain radiating from it. He can’t keep down food and can only take small sips of water, and Carlos has to hold the glass because his hands are shaking so badly.

He clings to Carlos, begs him to take it away, make it stop. Carlos tries to give him painkillers, sleeping pills, anything, but they just make Cecil (Kevin) sick.

He begins hallucinating. He can’t tell when he’s asleep or when he’s awake.

One day- or is it the same day?- Cecil (Kevin) jerks out of a daze desperately thirsty and with Carlos nowhere in sight. He gets all the way down the hall before one of his fits takes him and he falls to the ground. He barely feels the impact as he draws in erratic breaths, fighting against the pain. Dimly, he hears footsteps and feels Carlos grabbing him, and realizes faintly that he’s convulsing. Carlos, Carlos, are you here? Help me, make me stop feeling, please.

He sees things. Dreams, maybe. Memories, possibly.

He sees a man who looks like Carlos but is not Carlos. The man kisses him and tells him he loves him.

He sees a radio station, the microphone, the gleam of the On-Air sign, the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

He sees a man who looks just like him, with white hair and brown eyes and flat teeth. The man is yelling through a megaphone about taking down oppressive companies while children with weapons run past him, throwing explosives. They’re standing in the rubble of a building. An “S” logo is on the ground not far away.

He sees that same man lying on the ground in a pool of blood, impaled through the chest, and hears a scream. He thinks it’s Carlos. Why is Carlos screaming?

He sees Carlos and the man who looks just like Carlos but is not. The man who is not falls to the ground, blood oozing from between his fingers. Carlos walks over and says something, presses the gun between his eyes, and there’s a spray of blood.

Someone else is screaming. It might be him.

Carlos who was the other man who was I why was I screaming Carlos am I who am I

KevinCecilKevinCecilKevinCecilKevinCecil

He blacks out

* * *

When he wakes up, his mouth tastes awful and he’s pressed against something warm and solid.

“Hey,” Carlos says from beside him. They’re lying on the bed. “You’ve been out for quite awhile.”

“Carlos,” he says, and it’s only a gurgle at first until he clears his throat. “My head still hurts a little.”

“Do you think you can keep down some aspirin?”

He nods, and Carlos gives him two and a glass of water. He can hold it himself now, though he’s still trembling a bit. “How are you feeling, Cecil?”

Cecil. He’s Cecil. It brings a wobbling smile to his face. He’s Cecil. “Better.”

* * *

Cecil listens to his old broadcasts, absorbs all of the information. He has to learn what he can’t remember.

He puts in the brown contacts, makes sure to bleach his roots when they start coming in. Something about these things makes his mind skip uncomfortably. He has brown eyes. He has white hair. It feels wrong when he doesn’t.

He loves Carlos. One day Carlos comes up behind him, presses his lips to the back of his neck, and whispers “would you let me do science on you?”

Science. He knows from the broadcasts he likes it when Carlos does science. “To fix me?”

“Uh-huh.”

Carlos has such a nice white labcoat and Cecil isn’t afraid at all when the gas finally makes him fall asleep.

He wakes up with stiches on his throat and his voice is different. Deeper. Carlos kisses the scar they leave behind and tells Cecil that he’s just perfect now.

* * *

Cecil thinks there may have been another man, at one point. A man who was loved by someone who shone like the sun. A man who lived in a town that was brighter, saccharine. A man with dark hair and blue eyes and a sharp smile.

He thinks that man is dead.

Carlos kisses him and it tastes like surrender.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to formally apologize to all of the characters for either killing them or making them lose their grip on reality.
> 
> If it helps you can imagine Steve Carlsberg notices Carlos acting weird because he's a persistent little conspiracy theorist and comes to Kevin's rescue. Or, you know, close enough.
> 
> I have a Night Vale blog [here](http://floating-cats.tumblr.com) where I talk about fics and post sneak peeks, reblog a ton of fanart, and chat with other fans. We have a lot of theories about things. Come on by, it's a good time, I swear on all my hearts.


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